


Interim

by bloodsongs



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Mild D/s, Modern AU, Object insertion — sword hilt, Orgasm Denial, PWP, Renaissance Faire, Rimming, bottom!Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-26 00:33:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodsongs/pseuds/bloodsongs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a supportive boyfriend playing squire on Arthur's big day at the Renaissance Faire tourney, Merlin comes up with his own ingenious idea of motivating Arthur before his final match — namely, servicing Arthur with his tongue and fingers while in his armour. </p><p>He's got to keep his knight's best interests in mind, though, which is why he isn't letting Arthur come.</p><p>Unless he wins the tourney.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interim

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this [KMM prompt](http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/35114.html?thread=37506858#t37506858):
> 
> During a pause in the tourney, Merlin doesn't just give Arthur a new lance to replace the shattered one. He pulls down Arthur's trousers and rims his sweaty arse, making him desperate, but not letting him come. This way Arthur is fiercer, and more determined than ever to win.
> 
> Afterwards (if he is victorious), Merlin rims/fingers/fucks Arthur into an incoherent mess while Arthur is still wearing most of his armour.
> 
> Merlin loves having a warrior at his mercy. Arthur loves having his body pushed to its limits.
> 
> Bonus points for modern AU where they are medieval recreationists at a fair or something.
> 
> More bonus points for Arthur making Merlin fuck him with a sword hilt.
> 
> Gold star for Arthur stealing Merlin's underwear and wearing them as other knights wear their ladies' favours.

“Damn it!” Arthur throws his broken weapon down on the table before running a hand through his messy hair. His chainmail clinks softly as he leans against the edge of the rough table in his tent. “I’d really worked on sanding that one up, too.”

“It was a marvelous specimen,” Merlin agrees, taking a towel and wiping Arthur’s face down, patting him dry around his chin and down to the line of his neck. “Cheer up, you’ll have an Excalibur Mk II ready in no time at all, and I thought you did a pretty good job with making your first sword for this fair. Good fight.”

“Yeah?” Arthur chuckles, humming as he tilts his head back, letting Merlin abandon all pretense of wiping him after he’s done, playing with the collar of Arthur’s dark tunic under all the mail and armour. “All the fencing lessons in the world couldn’t have prepared me for this today. Thought he was going to gut me for a minute there.”

“With a blunt wooden stick, Arthur?” Merlin says, skeptical, but he’s grinning. “So the day has come when the mighty Sir Pendragon can be felled by a flimsy toy weapon. I see how it is. Perhaps I should become a squire to someone more deserving of my services.”

Arthur pulls Merlin close so that he falls between Arthur’s legs, hands steadying himself against the table and Arthur’s chest. “Don’t even think about it,” Arthur says, smiling a little wickedly before leaning in to brush his lips against Merlin’s, delighting in the way Merlin licks into him, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, a small mischievous nip. “I’m your knight.”

“Hmm. Yes, you are,” Merlin says thoughtfully, waggling his eyebrows at Arthur. He shifts his hands down the cool links and plates of Arthur’s armour, fingers tucked into Arthur’s belt as he slowly slips the brown strap away from Arthur’s waist. “And what a handsome knight you make, Arthur, all decked out in armour like this.”

Arthur moves in to kiss Merlin again, chasing his lips and tongue. “A nice change from the suits, huh?”

“Yes,” Merlin says, husky, letting his eyes shutter as he nudges Arthur’s legs apart with his own. Arthur obliges, lets Merlin get closer, always closer. “I could get used to this.”

He snakes an arm around Merlin’s shoulders, hears Merlin’s breath catch when he dips questing fingers under the rough fabric loosely scrunched about Merlin’s neck, a faded navy that brings out Merlin’s eyes. “You want to fuck me in my armour, Merlin?” Arthur whispers, smirking against Merlin’s mouth when he sees Merlin’s eyes widen, feeling the heat against his thigh. He’d known of Merlin’s fascination with his armour when they’d first decided to check out this renaissance faire together, but it’s obvious now his... appreciation far extends beyond just the aesthetics. “Want to bend your knight over, work me open?”

Merlin lets Arthur’s thumb sweep against the back of his neck while his own hands slide under the layer of mail, down to where laces are holding his now too-tight breeches together. “Such filthy talk unbecoming someone of your station.” Merlin flashes his tongue across the curve of Arthur’s ear, and Arthur shivers as Merlin kisses up his jaw next. “How forward of you, sir knight. Aren’t you supposed to court me, first?”

“Hell with that,” Arthur laughs, bucking against Merlin when the laces are finally untied, and there’s a palm resting against his cock through his breeches, coaxing him to hardness. “Oh, _mmm_. I’m here and willing, got some time to spare before a tourney to win. What more do you want, a fancy invitation?”

Merlin tuts, but he’s pleased and his cheeks are flushed, dark eyes glittering when he steps back. “Your spread legs are plenty invitation enough for me. Turn around, Arthur.”

“Bossy,” Arthur parrots at him, rolling his eyes, but he does it anyway, propping himself against the table with his elbows and presenting his arse to Merlin. “Well, I certainly didn’t expect to be fucked against the table in my tourney tent. First time for everything, I guess. Did you bring lube?”

“Yeah,” Merlin says, and there’s the low, sharp edge to his voice he gets when he’s aroused and in control that never fails to go straight to Arthur’s cock. “But I’m not using it just yet. Nor am I fucking you.”

“What?” But then Merlin’s getting on his knees, pulling Arthur’s breeches so that they fall unceremoniously to the ground, fingers dancing up the line of his calves and thighs. “Then—”

He doesn’t quite get to finish his sentence because Merlin’s fisting his cock and parting his cheeks with _his gloves on_ and hell if that doesn’t make lust roar to life inside him like a fire. He didn’t even know he kinked that. “You didn’t take off your gloves?!” He asks indignantly anyway, just to be contrary.

Merlin leans up against him, teeth dragging across the skin above his arse before he bites down and sucks a mark there. “Oh?” It sounds innocent, but Arthur knows better. “It’s cold out, surely you don’t expect me to go without. Besides—” 

And there’s the tell-tale probing at his hole, just a teasing brush that makes Arthur shut his eyes and moan the slightest bit. Merlin takes his hand off Arthur’s cock but keeps a firm grip on Arthur’s thighs, urging Arthur’s legs a little wider so that he has to lean more against the table and only the tips of his boots are on the floor. “I think you rather like it, me doing unspeakable things to you with the hint of leather, the feeling so unfamiliar inside you.”

“Christ,” Arthur manages, when Merlin leans in, breath hot against Arthur’s arse, and his gloved finger’s replaced by his tongue. “What are you— oh. Oh, fuck. You’ve never— _oh_.”

Merlin pulls away for a bit, biting a little at one of Arthur’s buttocks, laughing. “Maybe not, but hey, first time for everything, right?" He teases, repeating Arthur’s words right back at him.

Merlin’s got a wicked tongue, and Arthur’s always suspected as much ever since they’d first met a few months ago and Merlin’d mouthed off at him for being a self-entitled git who thought he could jump the queue and get a cab first, firing off an impressive string of insults about Arthur’s character and his possible tendency to sleep with dogs in various disturbing sexual positions. 

In response, Arthur had done the very mature thing by insulting Merlin’s face and replying that it takes one to know one. They’d started having a row right there on the corner of the street, and the cabbie had rolled his eyes  after a bit and had taken a bewildered female passenger who’d been watching them argue instead. 

But, yes, wicked tongue. Merlin’s always been an amazing kisser, and fuck if it doesn’t translate well to how he’s currently turning Arthur to an incoherent puddle of want. Arthur’s gone down on girls, opened other men up with his fingers and tongue, but his lovers have somehow never done this for him, ever. His legs are shaking where Merlin’s holding him in place, and Arthur can’t think with Merlin licking into him, his mind chanting a litany of _slick, hot, wet, more._

He abandons all pretense of dignity after a few more minutes of the sweet torture of Merlin’s damned tongue just _lapping_ at him, and pushes his arse against Merlin’s face in a silent demand for Merlin to just fucking get on with it. In a move that just screams _classic_ Merlin, Merlin ignores him, but does spread his cheeks wider with his long, long fingers, the gloves’ leather cold and sweet and not nearly enough against his skin.

“Fuck,” he swears, biting at his bottom lip as his breath comes in ragged gasps. Merlin’s just stroking his cock and all around it, light touches along the underside, brushing down to his hole. “You tease.”

“No fun jumping right to it,” Merlin says, and Arthur can feel him smile, damn him. He licks at Arthur’s hole again, and Arthur’s knees nearly give out, but Merlin’s still locking him in place. “You knights,” he continues, leaning downwards to suck at the sensitive skin behind Arthur’s balls, “are just about instant gratification, aren’t you? Fight and fuck and leave it at that.”

Merlin is _really_ getting into this. Arthur doesn’t think he’s been this hard in his life. “I should punish you for your impertinence later, squire,” he snaps, but it doesn’t come out as harshly as he’d intended, ending in a moan when Merlin licks up his hole again,  groaning against Arthur’s skin. “I’ll get you in the stocks, clean the rest of my swords all night.”

“Oh, please, my lord.” Merlin’s voice isn’t sincere at all, the pillock. Arthur rolls his eyes where Merlin can’t see them, but Merlin still smacks him on the arse anyway, a strike of pain that fades into a pleasurable haze within seconds. “I only want to polish your _one_ sword. I’ll do a good job of it, I promise. Allow me to demonstrate my contrition.” He wraps his fingers around Arthur’s cock again, sliding down through the slick mess, before fisting back up with a twist to the head.

“Merlin, that’s terribly cheesy, even for you.” Arthur hisses in pleasure, because Merlin’s done this so many times, he knows just how to work Arthur to the edge and back, holding him there without granting him release. Sadistic little fuck. “And that is hardly _contrition_ , you smart mouth.”

“No?” Again, all innocence, but Arthur knows better. Those clever fingers are back to teasing his hole again in conjunction with the swipes of Merlin’s tongue, and Arthur’s blinking back involuntary tears at the need to just fucking _come_. “What did you have in mind, my lord?” 

“Your tongue— _ah!_ ”

“Don’t think I quite heard you there, my lord,” Merlin says, voice low and sultry as he slides a finger into Arthur’s hole, just the slightest bit, teasing him at the rim. “I might have to ask you to repeat yourself.”

“You did that on purpose!”

“Such accusations. I’m wounded.” Merlin pulls his finger out, letting his tongue trace a wet path up Arthur’s arse from his hole. “I can do this for the entire break, Arthur,” He adds, breaking character briefly. “I’ll ask you again: what did you have in mind, my lord?”

Fucking Merlin. He just likes to make Arthur beg. Arthur’d been proud, once, but then Merlin’d come along with his insults, his bright eyes and his hidden sadistic streak. He’d never had so much fun in sex until Merlin, but Arthur’d also had never so much agony until Merlin; Merlin likes to draw things out, teasing until Arthur breaks and begs wordlessly, bucks into Merlin’s mouth and fingers as he rides out orgasms that Merlin will finally, finally deign to grant him.

“I want you,” he says, gripping at the edge of the table, the grooves and hicks of the rough wooden surface press into his palm, “to fuck me with your tongue. And have your fingers inside me.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Merlin smiles, and from the way his mouth moves against Arthur’s skin, he can feel Merlin biting his lower lip in amusement.

“ _Get to it_.”

“So domineering. You’re lucky I like you pushy.” A tight pull of Arthur’s cock, once, twice, and then Merlin’s teasing his drawn-up balls with the pad of his thumb before moving in to swirl his tongue around Arthur’s hole in earnest. 

Arthur throws his head back, a wild moan catching in his throat. His knees are shaking from the effort of holding himself up in the face (ha) of such pleasure, but he imagines Merlin’s enjoying the view, the perverse thing. He likes his men well-built, with strong thighs and lines of muscle, but he likes having his powerful men at his mercy more. 

They’d started off being so nervous with each other, all bravado as they flirted through their dates and fumbled their way through sloppy handjobs and frotting. It was still the best sex Arthur’d ever had even then, though he attributes it to how he enjoys Merlin’s company like he never has anyone else’s. 

And then Merlin had the brilliant idea of getting them both spectacularly drunk to talk about what they liked in bed, since they were so uncertain about where to go next. Four glasses of strong whiskey later, Arthur had blurted out about how he’d like to try being dominated for a change. Merlin had pushed Arthur down face-first against the couch, said that it was just Arthur’s lucky day, because Merlin had been fantasising about fucking Arthur into the mattress until he begged for mercy all week.

He’d never had anyone rim him, and now all he can think of is, _what a fucking waste,_ because Merlin’s really going to town on him, getting Arthur’s hole drenched as he laps and jabs his tongue in. The tent’s quiet but for the sound of Arthur’s harsh breaths and soft whimpers alternating and mingling with the slick, wet sounds coming from behind him. While he’d enjoyed rimming his own lovers, Arthur hadn’t really expected them to do the same for him, because to each their own preferences and all that. He certainly hadn’t imagined he’d like it _this much_.

It’s all a blur of colours and sounds as his entire reality narrows to the shock of sensation that is Merlin’s tongue in him, forcing Arthur to stuff the back of his own gloved hand inside his mouth in a futile attempt to muffle his shouts. 

“I’m close,” he chokes out, heat overwhelming him. Merlin’s got an iron grip at the base of his cock, absently brushing his fingers against the side and tracing a feather-light path up a vein, his other hand spreading Arthur wider as he slides his tongue even further in. Arthur reaches an arm behind him blindly, his fingers slipping through Merlin’s hair. Shuddering, he grabs a fistful, because he needs to come, this is too much—

Merlin hums, slowing the pace of licking in Arthur before making a circle with his thumb and forefinger, pushing it down Arthur’s cock and tightening his hold. He pulls back, his breath coming in short, sharp huffs as he rests his cheek against Arthur’s thighs. “No, you’re not coming yet.”

Arthur makes a strangled sound, and makes to pull Merlin back, but Merlin dodges his grip expertly. Slippery bugger. “Why the fuck _not?!_ ”

Shuffling to stand behind him, Merlin drags his fingers lightly up the sensitive back of Arthur’s thigh before slapping him soundly on the arse, the smack echoing in the sizable tent. “Because you have a tourney to win, that’s why,” Merlin says, nodding seriously and stepping back. “Sir.”

He can barely feel his feet, the muted aftershocks of pleasure still quivering through him, but Arthur recovers enough to turn around and lean against the table before looking at Merlin with his jaw agape.

“Would hate to make you late for the match with your fiercest competitor and all that,” Merlin continues, eyes twinkling. “This is _important._ ”

“I cannot _believe_ you,” Arthur says, but he’s dealt with Merlin’s teasing often enough to gauge from Merlin’s expression that he’s not budging on this one. Grudgingly, he bends over to pull up his underwear, and ignores the crude catcall Merlin throws his way. “Oh, come on.”

“Just enjoying the view.” They’re both quiet as Arthur huffs and turns his back deliberately to Merlin to spite him, showing off the way his too-small navy briefs cling to his arse. Well, they’re too small for a reason. From Merlin’s sharp intake of breath, he knows Merlin’s picked up on why. 

“Is that _my_ underwear?”

Turning to look at Merlin from over his shoulder, Arthur tries for coy, but it’s probably closer to a grimace because of how tight his pants are against his straining cock. Bloody Merlin, seriously. “I see you noticed. Took you long enough, you useless excuse of a squire.”

“Fucking hell,” Merlin whispers appreciatively, stunned, a little curl of lust creeping into his words. Arthur can’t help it — it’s practically conditioning by now, and it makes him shiver involuntarily.

“For luck, you know,” he begins, and that’s when Merlin strides over to crowd him against the table, hands hot through Arthur’s shirt, rubbing at his skin from just beneath his gauntlets.

“You were fighting in the tournament all this time in my underwear?” Hot words in his ear, so close and breathy and there,just as Merlin nudges a knee between his thighs, parting them _—_ Merlin’d be the death of him. “Do you even know what you do to me?”

“It’s only fair.” Pulling Merlin close, Arthur licks Merlin’s jaw, takes the chance to slide a hand around Merlin’s neck to his nape and tease at the fine hairs there. Revenge is a wickedly beautiful thing. 

“Win for me,” Merlin says, turning to nose at Arthur’s hair. His hands find their way down, slipping neatly into the little heated space between the smooth silk of his underwear and his skin before he gropes at Arthur, kneading. He can be ridiculously handsy when he wants to be. “Win for me, and I’ll fuck you against the table right here, just like you wanted. I’ll make you beg so pretty for me, Arthur, you’ll _scream_.”

He shivers at the thought of it as Merlin dresses him with tantalisingly slow movements, filthy images of locking his legs around Merlin’s hips as Merlin drives into him on that rickety table flooding his mind. Oh, but Arthur _wants._

Swinging his backup sword in a fancy circular manoeuvre, Arthur flashes a cocky smirk at Merlin just as he exits the tent. “I’m going to ride _you_ so hard, you’ll break.”

Merlin bites his lip, eyes going hooded. “You’re on.”

•

Arthur wins.

It was hell for the few crucial minutes leading up to his introduction — something along the lines of _Sir Arthur Pendragon of the court of Camelot, the golden warrior and defender of justice!_ or something equally hammed up — as he willed his erection down, but he’d been so frustrated thanks to Merlin, Valiant absolutely didn’t see his crushing defeat coming.

The crowd roars as a wave of pure adrenaline crashes over him; Arthur’s blood pounds in his ears when he lands his final vicious blow, sending his opponent tumbling into the sand. He removes his helmet and lets it fall with a soft thump. Holding his shield up, Arthur turns to the crowd and crows in triumph. There’s sun and sweat in his eyes, and he’s never felt more _alive._

He fucking loves renaissance faires.

His name is carried over the deafening cheers, blending together in an increasingly cohesive rhythm until it’s just a single chant of _Arthur, Arthur, Arthur_. When he finally lowers his hand and looks back at his tent, he sees Merlin jumping and clapping furiously, shouting the loudest of all.

“Idiot,” he murmurs fondly, but he drops his weapons at the edge of the tourney grounds and breaks into a run anyway until he lifts Merlin in the air and swings him around, laughing when Merlin lets out an excited whoop. 

They’re still beaming madly when they enter the tent and Arthur kisses him soundly, smiling against Merlin’s mouth when Merlin gathers fistfuls of his mail in his hands and pulls him closer, deepening the kiss.

“That was brilliant,” Merlin says breathlessly, and his eyes are shining. “You just... you absolutely slaughtered him in those last few minutes.”

“I was inspired,” Arthur says, only half-sarcastically, before linking his fingers with Merlin’s and slowly, slowly steps backwards towards the middle of the tent where the long table is, enjoying the way Merlin’s eyes widen — first in surprise, then in impish realisation. He eventually hits the edge of the table, that very edge where Merlin had had him moaning and pleading for his tongue and fingers just moments earlier, and it sends a delicious thrill through him. “Now,” he says, letting his voice drop low and husky, “does this victor get his prize?”

“So impatient.” Sure, Merlin says that, but it’s his fingers on Arthur’s belt now, shaking as he undoes it; his body bracketing Arthur’s against the table as he slips his gloved hands deftly under Arthur’s shirt, _gods,_ still wet with lube; his mouth against Arthur’s neck as he breathes sharp and quick and eager against his clammy skin. “Bet you can’t fucking wait, can you, when I’ve already opened you up for me, ready for my cock—”

“Fuck,” Arthur moans, trembling when Merlin doesn’t even bother taking off any of his armour, just yanks his hastily-unlaced breeches off his legs and leaves one end catching on his boot. “Your filthy mouth, Merlin, you,” he tries, but that’s when Merlin, eyes blazing, pulls him around by his waist and pins him to the table in a smooth move, gloved hand rough on his traitorous, already half-hard cock. 

“So fucking hot,” Merlin says, yanking at Arthur’s hair to expose his throat, the leather a torturous slide against his heat when he strips him slow, the obscene sounds slowly driving him insane. It sends him into a haze of dizzying lust when Merlin manhandles him like that, with that _edge_ to him, because Merlin — he’s all smiles and cheek and insults until he has Arthur up against a wall, taking him apart with his mouth and fingers and tongue until Arthur’s reduced to a blubbering wreck. 

He’s doing that even now, working Arthur with one hand while he shoves two fingers against the edge of Arthur’s mouth, hissing when Arthur parts his lips to suck at them, tasting the leather, his arse, and his own slick. Merlin’s erection is a brand against his back, pressed up against Arthur, and he can’t help but push back against it, hoping Merlin will get the fucking hint already. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you in armour, having your bare arse in the air as I finger you, tease you until you beg for me to fuck you.”

“Well, come on then,” he says, gasping when Merlin pulls his fingers back from where they’re playing with his balls to the tight clench of his hole, pushing them back in without warning. He’s wet and stretched still, hungry for it, and he reaches back with one hand to grip at Merlin’s neck, trying to get more of that burn inside him, _more._ “What are you waiting for?”

“Ask nicely, my lord,” Merlin says, his nose brushing the edge of Arthur’s cheek, kissing down and licking at the sweat pooled in the little dips of his neck and shoulder while he twists his fingers inside Arthur. Keening when Merlin presses deeper into him, Arthur barely registers the sound of Merlin undoing his own trousers and doesn’t realise it until Merlin’s spreading his arse, still pumping into Arthur, lining his cock so it brushes Arthur’s thighs and slides it between Arthur’s legs. “I may be more amenable to granting your request if you say _please._ ”

He pulls his fingers out of Arthur, leaving him empty and so far gone with the desire to be fucked, and to be fucked now. That’s the moment, of course, which Merlin chooses to tease Arthur by rubbing his cockhead against the wetness of his hole before dipping downward to tease, push it against the drawn tightness of Arthur’s balls, spreading Merlin’s slick everywhere. “Merlin,” Arthur chokes out.

“Yes?”

“Do it,” he says, desperate. “Just take me.”

Humming contemplatively, Merlin reaches out with another arm past Arthur’s death grip on the table. “Not yet, I think. Hang on, just need a bit more lube for this...”

His fingers slip and slide wetly over something but he’s still teasing Arthur’s hole with  his cock, just brushing against the edges without sliding in, so that can’t be it. Merlin leans down to rest against Arthur’s back, pulling him flush against his chest, and tugs a little at the skin of Arthur’s nape between his teeth. “Going to fuck you so good,” he murmurs, his breath running ragged while he gently nudges _something_ inside Arthur, “going to make you come so hard for me.”

“Promises, promises.” He barely manages being snide; Arthur’s shaking with the effort of staying up, his feet are nearly off the ground. Whatever Merlin’s pushing inside him is hard and smooth, and long — it isn’t until he feels the familiar texture of Excalibur’s cross-guard against his arse that Merlin is fucking him with _his own wooden sword’s hilt_. “What are you doing?!”

A huff of laughter stirs the little hairs at the back of his neck, and it tickles. “We were trying so many new things today, I thought we might as well go the whole nine yards.”

“Your American colleagues are rubbing off on you,” Arthur grumbles, but he nearly buckles when Merlin does a particularly clever twist with his wrist, rotating the hilt inside him slowly before dragging out nearly to the edge, only to slam inside him again. “Holy _fuck._ ”

It makes him heady, knowing that Merlin is just as affected by this as he is, if the way Merlin is rutting against his arse between thrusts of the sword hilt is any indication. “A little improvisation goes a long way?” It shouldn’t feel so pleasurable; now that he knows what to expect, he can feel the smooth but prominent patterns he’d carved so lovingly into the hilt, knows that the dragon curling up near the cross-guard is the series of uneven, delicious bumps he senses when Merlin twists it inside him again and again, filling him up in the most sordid and unexpected way.

“You look so good like this,” Merlin says. “Like you’ll take anything inside you, as long as you’re filled up, you greedy thing.” He really must be quite a sight, Arthur thinks, his spread legs damn and sweaty as Merlin, that ridiculous pervert, fucks him with a wooden sword. “But you want something else, don’t you, hmm? Something more?” 

He’s never been the sort to go down easy without a fight. “Can’t imagine what you’re talking about,” Arthur says, struggling to keep his voice even while Merlin slides the hilt in and out of him lazily like it’s just another one of their Sunday afternoon shags. “When you can’t get even a semi-decent fuck this side of London, a sword’s a good a lover as any.”

“A wild thing, aren’t you? You don’t mean that.” Merlin tuts, sliding the sword out of him, sloppy and filthy with lube before he rings his fingers tightly around the base of Arthur’s too-hard cock, making him groan from the pressure. “I can leave you like this, you know. Just hold you down and tease you elsewhere, everywhere else but where you want to be filled, so it’s never enough. Never enough for you to come.”

Arthur pushes back against Merlin again, but Merlin’s making a good start on his threat, locking Arthur’s legs in place as he rests against Arthur’s back to push him down against the table, hands dragging against his inner thighs down to his knees. Every single little touch now is setting him aflame, every absent not-accidental brush against his cock almost too much to bear. 

“Merlin,” Arthur says. He doesn’t whimper, but it’s a near thing.

“You know what I can do to you,” Merlin says, voice low and smooth with a touch of impatience. Arthur closes his eyes, overwhelmed. “I’m not in a rush, my _lord_. I can keep you waiting for hours as I look and tease my fill, as you writhe under my touch, begging to be fucked. Or you can behave and admit what you want, and I’ll give it to you right now, fuck you here rough and dirty.”

His cheeks are being spread again, and _fuck,_ because now Merlin means business when he shoves two fingers in at once, crooking them so he presses against Arthur’s prostate right away, tearing a full-body shudder from him. “Jesus Christ,” Arthur swears, gritting his teeth as Merlin keeps at it, merciless, fingering him in sharp bursts as the broken sword clatters to the floor, forgotten. _“Gods,_ oh, Merlin—”

“Tell me what you want,” Merlin hisses, and if not for the way Merlin has an iron grip around the base of his shaft, Arthur might’ve just come right there and then at the sound of his voice.

“Just do it already,” he pants, nearly sobbing, “you know I want you to.”

“ _Say it_.”

“Fuck me, all right? Fuck me!” Arthur shouts.

He cries out when Merlin scissors his fingers inside him while squeezing his cock, the excruciating pleasure and pain making him blank out for a few breathless seconds. “Beg me,” Merlin says fiercely, his tone so dark and disobeyable now that Arthur has to actually fight the strange compulsion to fall to his knees and suck Merlin, “for my _cock._ ”

The silence fills the small, intense space between them as Arthur catches his breath, completely wrecked. “I want your cock inside me,” he says finally, flushing all over, and he can’t help involuntarily clenching down on Merlin’s fingers at that, heat coiling low in his stomach. “Please.”

Merlin doesn’t say anything, just cups Arthur’s face and turns it towards him for a kiss, sweet and possessive and approving. “Good,” he murmurs against Arthur’s lips, licking into his mouth, slowly drawing out his fingers only to line and rub his cockhead against Arthur’s hole now, the same maddening way he did before. “Now, show me how much you want it.”

“Nnngh,” Arthur manages, trying to object, but Merlin claims his mouth again before he finally pushes in, fucking into him slow and hot. He’s still so wet from Merlin’s tongue and the liberal amount of lube that Merlin’d worked into him earlier, had stayed wet and open through his fucking fight when he’d beaten Valiant to the ground  being unable to bloody think of anything but _this._ “Oh, oh, _shit.”_

“Look at you.” Merlin nips at his shoulder and shifts his palm back down to grip at Arthur’s thighs, locking them there even as he tries to move back against Merlin to take more of him inside, eager and mad with it. “A noble knight, fucking yourself open on my cock. Couldn’t even take your armour off because you were gagging for it.”

“Move,” Arthur gasps, feeling the stretch as Merlin teases him even _now_ , pushing inside with slow short slides before pulling out, only to repeat that again. They’re locked together now, Merlin’s full weight pressing into him, on him, those long fingers digging into his hips as he drives back in, a single sleek stroke. “Need you, Merlin, need—”

Merlin’s always been a talker, and he talks Arthur through this as he begins to fuck him in earnest, the filthiest things spilling from his mouth in heated whispers against the shell of Arthur’s ear while he thrusts harder, faster. Even the teasing proves too much for Merlin, and it’s not very long until he starts dragging his cockhead against that sweet spot inside him, wrenching pleas and incoherent begging from Arthur as the table shakes under their combined weight. “So tight even after I’ve opened you up,” Merlin says, his voice shaky now too, “God, Arthur, so perfect.”

A little beyond words at this point, Arthur only groans in response, shuddering when Merlin’s hands wander even as he’s fucking into him, hands brushing hot over Arthur’s sensitive nipples and tangling in the fine dusting of hair that leads down to his cock. The table’s edge is sharp against his skin, but he really doesn’t care anymore, not when Merlin’s rocking into him with sinuous arches, his long lean body spilling over Arthur’s as he drives home inside him again and again. The liquid heat inside him intensifies, tightening as Merlin continues to push him closer and closer to that impossible brink.

Fingers tighten in his hair and pull his head back, splaying over the side of his cheek as Merlin mouths up his neck. “Come for me, Arthur,” Merlin commands, fucking _commands_ him, and that shouldn’t be so bloody hot when it’s _Merlin_ except it is, and Arthur’s eyes slam open wide at the order, at Merlin’s sliding his hand down his chest, his stomach to circle his fingers around Arthur’s cock, pushing Arthur to fuck into his hand, tight and slick and glorious. “Spread your legs wider.” Arthur does, trembling as the heat consumes him, as he takes Merlin deeper in and it’s two, three thrusts before— “Come!”

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck,_ ” Arthur cries out, as everything inside him unravels simultaneously, his nerves on fire as the pleasure floods him and overflows. He pulses messily into Merlin’s hand and all over the table, hot with it, moaning when Merlin continues to stroke him even while he’s oversensitised and refuses to stop, milking every single last drop out of him. “Jesus Christ,” he says, wrecked, those perfect fingers still jerking him, thumbing his head and catching at the wet slick there. “God, Merlin, no, please, please, I...”

“Shhh,” Merlin murmurs, holding and touching him through it as Arthur’s body stays taut while he keeps coming, _fuck_ , still buried deep inside him and moving with his ragged thrusts, his own breaths coming quicker and quicker as his own control slips. He bites down on Arthur’s shoulder when he comes, fumbling for Arthur’s hand and linking their fingers together when his release hits him. “Fuck, Arthur!” 

Merlin’s fingers dig deep into his own, nails digging sharp half-crescents into his palm, his other hand stilling on Arthur’s hip as he breathes against Arthur’s skin, harsh and stuttering as he rides it out. God, it’s the hottest thing, Merlin fucking him bare, and he gives a silent prayer to whoever might be listening for having ruled them both clean so that he could have Merlin just like this, the rough raw slide of his cock inside him the best damned feeling in the world.

“Wow,” Merlin says, pulling out and collapsing into a chair next to the table, his breeches still half-undone. Arthur winces at the loss, but feels a thrill go up his spine when he can still feel Merlin’s come inside him, trickling down his legs. They’re a pair of perverts, definitely. “That was... something.”

“You _really_ like debauching your knights, don’t you?” Arthur scoffs, but there’s no bite in it. He places his foot into the other leg of his breeches, pulling it up. The telltale soreness lingers, throbbing inside him, but it’s the good kind that kind of makes him absently want to provoke Merlin into taking him on the table again. Maybe on his back. Or up against the wall, Arthur's not picky.

Merlin turns a lazy, sated smile towards him, his eyes half-lidded. “Hard not to, when they’re as stubborn and gorgeous as you. I do like putting prattish knights in their place.”

“Control freak,” Arthur says, moving over to straddle Merlin in his chair. He’s not laced up his breeches, so it’s easy for Merlin to slip his fingers beneath Arthur’s tunic and breeches again to rub absently at the soft skin of his arse under his briefs.

“I still can’t believe you stole my underwear, you delinquent.”

“Hey, it gave me luck, didn’t it?” It had been a fun idea at the time as they were rushing to get out the door. Merlin’s always been the friskier one in their relationship, initiating sex with Arthur in all sorts of places: their friends’ bathrooms, in Merlin’s office, in the elevator, and on one particularly memorable occasion, under a table at a slow-going company dinner because Merlin had been _bored._

It had been a no-brainer to steal a pair of Merlin’s briefs instead, especially because Arthur had been confident Merlin would probably fucking love it if Arthur wore his underwear when he stripped him. Truth be told, Arthur’d loved the idea of it himself — not just that of Merlin’s, ah, _favour_ giving him luck, but the intimacy of it, a physical reminder of Merlin clinging so coyly to his skin.

And, well, Merlin had totally fucked his brains out because of how turned on he was, so score one to Arthur for that decision.

Merlin pulls him down by his mail again, drawing teeth over Arthur’s bottom lip before kissing him deeply. They stay like that for a while, Arthur’s mouth moving over Merlin’s collarbone, Merlin nuzzling at Arthur’s ear and whispering endearments and promises and little silly things he’ll completely deny once they get home. 

After a bit, Merlin’s other hand dips low into Arthur’s briefs and slips between his cheeks to tease at his wet hole again. Arthur moans; he can’t help it. “You’re still so wet,” Merlin says softly against his mouth, almost in wonder. “Sloppy with my come and all that lube. So fucking hot.”

“You’re insatiable,” Arthur laughs incredulously, eyes widening when Merlin looks up at him, sly, pulling one of Arthur’s hands down to cup his cock where he’s already half-hard. He spreads his legs further on the floor, which in turn spreads Arthur’s legs wider where he’s straddling Merlin, giving Merlin more room to toy with his arse. “You can’t be serious... Merlin!”

“What do you say, sir knight?” Merlin drawls, pulling Arthur’s breeches down again to his knees in one sure movement before slipping his fingers inside again, crooking them so that Arthur has to clutch at his shoulders from the pleasure. “Round two?”

“I’ll fucking show you round two,” Arthur growls in reply, kicking off his breeches again and sinking down on Merlin’s cock.

 

_fin_  

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think there are RenFaires in UK, but for the sake of the setting... (laughs) Eh!


End file.
